


A Very Hogwarts Valentine's Day

by unscriptedemily



Series: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Your Advanced Defence Teacher [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Fluff, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, alright, bye, i hate them they are stupid, ughghughguh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unscriptedemily/pseuds/unscriptedemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed is tired and bad at feelings; Al is an <em>evil</em> little brother and also a seer. And Roy? Roy is the unreasonably attractive Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Hogwarts Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> so I woke up today and I was like '.....fuckkkk I haven't posted any of CRH fuck fuckkk' and then I realised it was That Day and I was like 'fuuUUCKKKKK IT'S VALENTINE'S DAY AND I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANY FLUFFY FIC' so. Here, have a very, very late (it's practically not even valentine's day anymore) V-Day fic. HP universe, because when in doubt, Hogwarts au!!  
> im sorry for any mistakes! I haven't edited, because editing is boring, but if there's anything horrific, pls tell me and I'll sort it out ^^;

It’s quarter to nine, and Ed is _late as hell_. He stumbles down the next flight of stairs, _daring_ it to move, and skids round the corner still wrestling with his red and gold tie. Whose idea was it to have _ties_ as a part of school uniform? Ed makes a mental note to invent a spell that ties them _for_ you without the risk of being choked. And finally, fucking _finally_ , he reaches the door to the Great Hall. _Please let there be some breakfast left_ he prays fervently to gods he doesn’t believe in, and shoves open the door with his shoulder.

In his sleep deprived state, it takes him a grand total of twenty seconds to register that something is very, very wrong.

He stands in the doorway for a few seconds, blinking, and hoping to high hell that this is a nightmare, and he will wake up soon. Please let him wake up soon. The air is teeming with red confetti. There are glowing roses instead of candles floating via suspension charm above the heads of the students, and Ed is going to fucking barf.

“Brother!” Al is waving excitedly at him from Gryffindor table, which is weird, because Al is in Ravenclaw, so why-

Oh. Fuck.

 _Valentine’s Day_.

***

Ed slings his bag under the bench and stares glumly at the plate of confetti-covered porridge Al offers him. Valentine’s Day.

“Cheer up brother,” says Al, patting him commiseratingly on the arm, “it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Why is everyone so fucking _happy_ about that?

“I _noticed_ ,” says Ed, “and I _also_ noticed that there is fucking _confetti_ on my _breakfast._ This isn’t a holiday, Al. This is a _nightmare_. And we don’t even get the day off timetable.”

Al waves his wand and the confetti rises off Ed’s porridge and reforms into the shape of a rose. A few seats down, Mei Chang starts clapping, and Al winks at her, blushing slightly.

Ed looks dolefully at the glass of pumpkin juice before him, and pours himself a mug of black coffee. He needs it.

Taking care not to disturb the pile of cards and assorted trinkets gathered around his place, Al nudges Ed with an elbow.

“Well, Brother,” he says cheerfully, “it’s scientifically proven that people are much more open to romantic advances on Valentine’s Day, so maybe today you’ll finally be able to stop staring at Professor Mustang and tell him how you feel!”

“ _What_?!”

In hindsight, maybe it _is_ a good thing that today is Valentine’s Day _._ For one thing, the teachers- including, for the record, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Roy Mustang- are much too preoccupied with their own cards and presents that they don’t notice Ed spraying coffee all over the tablecloth.

***

 

At nine, everyone begins gathering up their bags and cloaks, and heading to their first lesson of the day. Al takes longer than usual because he’s procured a small mountain of Valentine’s Day gifts from his various admirers. Mei Chang in particular is even more obsessed than usual; she bounces over to them as the Great hall slowly empties, and shoves Ed out of the way with her elbow. He scowls, but Al smiles.

“Oh, hi Mei!” he says happily, and she _beams_.

“So, what do you have first, Alphonse?” she asks, pointedly ignoring Ed.

“Potions,” replies Al with a dramatic sigh, and Ed’s stomach sinks. Of course today has to be the day where he has Advanced Defence first, the only class he doesn’t share with Ravenclaw. With Professor Mustang. Who has amassed enough Valentine’s gifts to fill every single one of the Hogwarts Express’ carriages. And who will almost certainly _smirk_. Not even almost certainly; he _will_ smirk, and he’ll make some snide comment about Ed’s height, the _bastard,_ and Ed will retort, and then they’ll fight, and all the while he’ll have to pretend not to notice how _utterly drop-dead fucking gorgeous_ the man is, and-,

 

“Brother? You’ve gone green. Are you feeling alright?” Al’s face takes up Ed’s field of vision, his golden eyes large and worried.

Ed clears his throat. “I’m- yeah, I’m fine. Good. Great. Actually, I feel kinda ill, I think I’ll just skip first period and-,”

“You have Advanced Defence first, don’t you.” It's not a question, though it's phrased like one.

Ed’s stomach, having stopped sinking, _droops_. “….Maybe.”

They’re almost at the doors, now, but Al stops, tugs on Ed’s sleeve to get him to halt as well, and folds his arms. Uh oh. This Is his _warming up to a pep talk_ face. Ed has to stop him before he-

Too late. Fuck.

“Brother,” Al says sternly, “you’re going to defence. And you’re going to sit down, and you’re going to _learn_ something, and you’re going to argue with professor Mustang, and you’re going to have very intense eye contact, and you’re going to _suck it up and deal with it_.”

Ed opens his mouth to say something, but Al holds up a hand imperiously.

“And after class,” he continues, “ you’re going to lag behind, and then you’ll be alone with him, and he’ll look up from his desk and do the thing where he sort of blinks in surprise, and he’ll say “Mr Elric? Can I help you with something?” except with more short jokes, and then you’ll explode at said short jokes, but then you’ll quiet down and look at your feet and shuffle from side to side, and he’ll say “Ed? What’s wrong?” and you’ll look up and realise that the room has suddenly become very hot and that he’s looking at you with a mixture of concern and _attraction_ , and then-,”

“Holy _shit_ , Al,” says Ed, staring in horror, “How much fanfiction have you been _reading_?”

Mei, standing a few metres away, raises her eyebrows slowly. “And more importantly,” she says, “can you give me the site you use? I can’t get internet on school grounds.”

“Oh, it’s fairly easy,” says Al, “we invented the spell that surpasses it about a week into our first year, didn’t we Brother?”

Ed blinks. “Uh, sure, yeah,” he says, “but- Al- I’m not- _none_ of that is going to happen, and it wouldn’t anyway because I _don’t like him_!”

Al looks at him.

Mei looks at him.

“Sure you don’t, Ed,” they say in unison. Ed considers stabbing himself with a fork.

 

***

 

As it is, he’s late to defence, as well. In the corridor outside, he takes a _deep_ breath to steel himself (and to give his flush time to die the fuck down), and wrenches open the door. Mustang, standing poised and- of fucking course- perfect at the front of the class, turns to raise a smooth and delicate eyebrow at him as he kicks the door shut and marches to his seat.

“Late, Mr. Elric.” He says, and for _fuck’s sake_ , his voice is like fucking velvet or some shit. This is so goddamn unfair. “Do I need to ask for an excuse? Or should I just assume that you just can’t help it, what with having such short legs?”

There it is. The breath Ed’s been holding releases with a _whoosh_.

“ _Fuck_ you,” he mutters, and Mustang smirks. The rest of the class- consisting of himself, three Ravenclaws, a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff- are either staring at Ed or at Mustang. Ed can see one of the Ravenclaws and the Slytherin exchanging money under the table.

“What was that?” Mustang asks, twirling his wand, “not swearing, I hope. Because that would mean point deduction, and I would hate to-,”

“I _said_ , fuck _you_ ,” snarls Ed, slamming his books onto the desk. The Ravenclaw makes a little triumphant noise, and the Slytherin scowls, handing over the coins. “So deduct as many fuckin’ points as you want.”

He throws himself into his seat, fixes Mustang with a glare. He can see the mountain of fucking heart shaped cards and little chocolates wrapped up in bows on the teacher’s desk in his periphery vision, and he is _so_ not fucking equipped to deal with this today.

For a second, Mustang just stares right back at him, and Ed thinks he’s sees- _something_ in his eyes, something like- sympathy, maybe, or understanding; a softening, but then he turns away, and he’s back to being a cocky bastard of an ice statue.

“I would so hate to punish an entire house for just one of its member’s… _shortcomings_ ,” he says lightly, “so I’d better make it a detention instead. My office, Elric. After school.”

Ed’s fists clench under the table. He doesn’t have time for this shit; he has a ton of research to do for the potions theory he’s working on tonight, and with detention on top of it, it’ll mean yet another all-nighter in a string of far too many of ‘em.

“ _Fine_ ,” he says through gritted teeth, and finally, _finally_ , the lesson starts and he can zone out, watching Mustang teaching things he already knows, and definitely _not_ admiring the way the light kind of plays over his hair.

Fucking hell, Ed needs to get a life. And, like, _quickly_.

 

The bell rings for the end of first period, and Ed jerks out of his half-asleep state. For a second, he’s confused as to why everyone is moving, and then he realises that he has Herbology with Al and he should probably get going. He shoves his books back into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, tucking the chair back in with his foot. Then he looks up, and realises that he’s the only one left in here. The only one apart from Mustang.

Fuck. He’s going red, he can feel it. Thankfully, Mustang is sorting through some paper on his desk, so he hasn’t noticed, and if Ed can just get out of here now then he won’t have to think about stupid perfect Mustang and his stupid perfect voice or-

“Wait, Edward.”

Shit. He turns, slowly, and Mustang s looking at him from his desk. He looks…worried.

“What?” asks Ed; it comes out harsher than he intended. “I’ve got- Herbology,” he adds, and Mustang takes a breath.

“I know. Sorry- I’ll try to be quick. Just…are you alright?”

Wait, _what_? Mustang’s face is serious, and seriously attractive, and Ed shouldn’t be allowed outside.

“Uh.Yeah, I’m. Fine…” What the _fuck_? It’s this day. It’s messing with Ed’s head; it’s making him delusional. Because Mustang doesn’t care about him, he just doesn’t _care_ ; he’s aloof and cold and-

“You look tired,” he says, and his eyes are softer, like before. He clears his throat, and Ed can see the candlelight reflected in his dark, dark eyes, even from a few paces away. “You don’t have to come to detention, tonight,” and Ed stares at him, uncomprehending.

“What?”

Mustang folds his arms. “Elric, you need to get some sleep. Don’t worry about detention. You can make it up some other time. Unless you _want_ to spend an hour with me?”

….that sounded like a _line_ ,even though Ed _knows_ it wasn’t, and obviously he doesn’t want detention…except he really kind of _does_ and oh, shit, Mustang is looking at him and maybe he can see some of what Ed’s thinking written on his face, because he kind of…blushes. Goes ever-so-slightly pink.

Ed’s such a fucking goner. And also a _huge-ass loser_ , for wishing for things he _can never have_.

“Right,” he says, hurriedly, and is it getting warm in here? “Cool. Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” says Mustang, and Ed should go. He should _go_ , but his feet…won’t…move.

He shifts, a little, from side to side. Mustang is looking at him again, Ed can tell, even though his own eyes a fixed firmly on his boots.

It’s definitely hot in here; the candles Mustang uses for ‘atmosphere’ or whatever the fuck that means are probably some kind of fire hazard, actually, and has he put non-flammability spells on the room so the candles won’t just get accidentally knocked over and burn down the entire school, or-?

Roy swallows, and it’s kind of loud, and Ed looks up so suddenly that his breath kind of catches when he sees Roy standing there. Like he hadn’t been staring at him for the past hour and ten-ish minutes. Like this was the first time he’s ever seen him, and he looks _so good_ , so alive and warm and _glowing_.

“I should- go.” The words stumble out of Ed’s mouth unbidden, and he hates himself for the way they catch in his throat.

Ro-Mustang blinks. “Right. Yes, of course, you’re going to be late…”

Ed turns for the door, but his hands don’t want to move. Al’s in the back of his mind screaming _Kiss him!!!!!!_

There’s a beat in which Ed struggles between a) leaving right now, never, ever mentioning this ever and actually getting to Herbology on time, and b) not leaving, being very, very late to Herbology, and possibly….possibly what? Making out with his Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts professor? Yeah, right. Like Ed’s ever done anything good enough to merit _that_ kind of equivalent exchange.

Ed turns back around, looks a startled Mustang (haha. Startled Mustang. Horse.) in the eyes and says, “Look, I think you’re really fucking attractive and we should make out sometime, that would be awesome.”

 

…Just kidding.

Ed turns the door handle, says, “well, whatever. Thanks,” without looking back, and is just about to push open the door when Mustang says,

“-Ed.”

He stops. Doesn’t dare look, doesn’t _dare_ get his hopes up.

“Yeah?”

“…Can I buy you a butterbeer at some point? In exchange for helping me with that formula last week.”

That formula-? Oh, right; Ed had decoded some old alchemic formula last week after he found Mustang in the library having a brain tumour over it, that’s-

Wait a fucking second.

He spins, stares, feels himself go _bright red_. Is this actually happening? Roy is looking at him like he’s bracing himself for the worst.

“Okay.”

Roy’s eyebrows raise an infinitesimal amount. “Okay?”

Ed rolls his eyes. “Y _es_. Okay. But you better make it firewhiskey, Mustang, I’m not a fucking child.”

“I’m very glad you’re not,” says Roy, and it probably wasn’t supposed to come out that loud, but Ed’s every muscle is poised to flee, so his hearing is pretty fucking sharp right now. “Is tomorrow alright? You have a Hogsmeade weekend, right?”

Ed _is_ dreaming. He knew it. “Well, kinda. Seventh years aren’t really ‘posed to go on Hogsmeade weekend, cause we got a ton of revision, but I know the subjects back to back anyway, so…”

Roy- smiles. Tentatively. Is this a date? Or a friendly, thanks-for-decoding-that-formula drink? Shit. Ed’s never been good at fucking _reading_ people, how’s he supposed to know?

“So, tomorrow, yeah?” he asks, “Three broomsticks?”

“Sure,” says Roy, and Ed is about to fucking explode. _Is it a date or not_?

He’s missed, like, half of Herbology already, so…nothing for it. “Like…as in, a- you know. A date?” He’s fucking _scarlet_ ; his face feels like it’s on fire, and he _despises_ himself for how hopeful he sounds. His hand tightens on the doorknob; he needs to run. He needs to run _now_ and never, ever speak of this to anyone; he needs to give up magic and become a fucking hermit on a mountainside somewhere so he will never, ever have to even think about the horrific clusterfuck of a misconstruction he just committed.

“If that’s alright with you, of course,” says Roy, going pink. More pink than earlier. Like, not red, but…blushy. Wait. Did he just-

“Huh?” says Ed, intelligently. His stomach does a triple backflip off the top of the Astronomy Tower. Roy is _blushing_.

“I mean, obviously, you don’t have to,” he says hurriedly, and Ed’s eyes widen.

“No, I mean, yes, I mean, yeah I do want to- get a drink- with you, like, on a. Date,” he says, tripping over his words, “But, like- why the fuck would you wanna take _me_ on a date?”

Roy looks…taken aback.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, and Ed, releasing the door handle, folds his arms, scowling.

“Why would you want to do that?” he repeats, and Roy shakes his head, expression bewildered.

“Because- Ed- you’re…quite frankly, you’re amazing. Your intelligence alone- I’m sorry,” he says, and Ed’s never heard him sound this _nervous_. It’s fucking adorable. “That sounded- I mean, this isn't- I’m not trying to be a creep, I swear-,”

Ed kisses him.

Like, _kisses_ kisses him.

Just fucking reaches up, yanks his collar down, and kisses him.

Roy doesn’t move for three seconds, and then, slowly, he reciprocates. And holy _fuck_ is it just as good- if not _better_ than Ed ever fucking imagined. He can practically _hear_ the stars bursting, the fabric of the universe stretching. Roy’s lips are soft, and warm, and he feels really, really _good_.

Roy draws back first, after what feels like a fucking lifetime, and Ed grins at him, licking his lips slowly.

And then he winces.

“What?” asks Roy, “What’s wrong? Did I do something-,”

“No,” says Ed, “No, no way. That was great. That was _awesome_. No, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“My _brother_ ,” sighs Ed, “I should’ve known he’d turn out to be a fucking seer.”

 


End file.
